Yet if ever a mouse was seen aboard,
Quickly she'd after it be ;

Or if a stray bird flew overhead,
To the top of the mast ran she.

And when they came unto the isle
Where they before had been,
The captain left the ship a while,
To visit the king and queen.

For now they make a feast so good,
To welcome him again;

And he has brought his goods to land,

And many of his men.

Rich fruits and dainty things were set

On platters all of gold,

Such good cheer as would cost us here

More than can well be told.

But, lo! the feast had scarce began,
When, entering in a trice,

A troop the table overran,

A troop of rats and mice!

They seized the fruit, they seized the fish,

And greedily they ate ;

They skipp'd into the king's own dish,

And nibbled at his meat.

For help the queen in vain scream'd out, Though the slaves obey'd her call; For while they drove some few about, More ran into the hall.

Then said the captain, "With me came
A meek and charming creature ;
But quiet though with us, and tame,
She hates these mice by nature.”

Quick to the ship a sailor ran,

Before the queen could ask it, And gently coaxing puss away, He stow'd her in a basket.

But though so tight its lid was screw'd,

She could not rest a minute;

But scratch'd, and spit, and whined, and mew'd, As long as she stay'd in it.

They set her free, and like a sprite

She sprang upon the table,

And mice and rats they all took flight

As fast as they were able.

To make them scamper up and down
Puss thought fine fun, no doubt;

For she did not let the work alone
Till she'd put them all to rout.

"Oh, could she stay with me," said the queen,
"I should dine so peacefully;

If I were not afraid of her scratching claws,
But most of her fiery eye."

But when she stroked her silken coat,
And heard her quiet song,

The queen took pussy on her knee,
And found her fears were wrong.

The ribbons, spurs, and other stuff
The captain had, were brought;
But how to value puss enough,
Seem'd to be all their thought.

With wedges of gold they loaded the hold,
For the boy that own'd the prize;
While puss in state in the palace sate,
And served their majesties.

G

And now the captain bent his course

Again to England's shore;

Where all the folks began to think
They should not see him more.

Poor Whittington! he had been sad
Without his little friend;

And scoldings from the cook he had,
Which never seem'd to end.

And at last he thought that it was best
From all his toil to fly;

And if he found no place of rest,
To lay him down and die.

So away he went, one summer's morn,
And left his master's hall;

He knew not where his steps to take,
Or what should him befall.

When suddenly a merry peal
Of bells began to ring ;

And pleasant to his wondering ear
These sounds they seem'd to bring:

"Turn again, Whittington,

Turn again home;

And thou to be Lord Mayor

Three times shalt come."

"Indeed!" says he; "oh, then, I'll turn,

And the cook I'll try to bear;

But for poor boys I will provide,
If ever I'm Lord Mayor."

The captain comes-they crowd around

To learn what he has done :

"Here's this for you, and that for him ;

For each I've something won.

Some on the lower boughs, which cross'd their way,

Fixing their bearded fibres, round and round,

With many a ring and wild contortion wound;
Some to the passing wind, at times, with sway
Of gentle motion swung;

Others, of younger growth, unmoved were hung Like stone drops from the cavern's fretted height.

Beneath was smooth and fair to sight,

Nor weeds nor briars deform'd the natural floor;
And through the leafy cope which bower'd it o'er
Came gleams of chequer'd light.

So like a temple did it seem, that there

A pious heart's first impulse would be prayer.